Robinetta Part 8

"It's as difficult for nations as for individuals to hit the happy medium," said Lavendar, stirring the fire. "Enterprise carried too far becomes vulgar hustling, while stability and conservatism often pa.s.s the coveted point of repose and degenerate into torpor."

"This part of England seems to me singularly free from faults,"

interposed Mrs. de Tracy in didactic tones. "We have a wonderful climate; more sunshine than in any part of the island, I believe. Our local society is singularly free from scandal. The clergy, if not quite as eloquent or profound as in London (and in my opinion it is the better for being neither) is strictly conscientious. We have no burglars or locusts or gnats or even midges, as I'm told they unfortunately have in Scotland, and our dinner-parties, though quiet and dignified, are never dull.... What is the matter, Robinetta?"

"A sudden catch in my throat," said Robinette, struggling with some sort of vocal difficulty and avoiding Lavendar's eye. "Thank you," as he offered her a gla.s.s of water from the punctual and strictly temperate evening tray. "Don't look at me," she added under her voice.

"Not for a million of money!" he whispered. Then he said aloud: "If I ever stand for Parliament, Mrs. Loring, I should like you to help me with my const.i.tuency!"

The unruffled temper and sweet reasonableness of Robinette's answers to questions by no means always devoid of malice, had struck the young man very much, as he listened.

"She is good!" he thought to himself. "Good and sweet and generous.

Her loveliness is not only in her face; it is in her heart." And some favorite lines began to run in his head that night, with new conviction:--

He that loves a rosy cheek, Or a coral lip admires, Or from star-like eyes doth seek Fuel to maintain his fires,-- As old Time makes these decay, So his flames will waste away.

But a smooth and steadfast mind, Gentle thoughts and calm desires, Hearts with equal love combined--

but here Lavendar broke off with a laugh.

"It's not come to that yet!" he thought. "I wonder if it ever will?"

X

A NEW KINSMAN

Young Mrs. Loring was making her way slowly at Stoke Revel Manor, and Mrs. de Tracy, though never affectionate, treated her with a little less indifference as the days went on. "The Admiral's niece is a lady," she admitted to herself privately; "not perhaps the highest type of English lady; that, considering her mixed ancestry and American education, would be too much to expect; but in the broad, general meaning of the word, unmistakably a lady!"

Mrs. Benson, though not melting outwardly as yet, held more lenient views still with regard to the American guest. Bates, the butler, was elderly, and severely Church of England; his knowledge of widows was confined to the type ably represented by his mistress and he regarded young Mrs. Loring as inclined to be "flighty." The footman, who was entirely under the butler's thumb in mundane matters, had fallen into the habit of sharing his opinions, and while agreeing in the general feeling of flightiness, declared boldly that the lady in question gave a certain "style" to the dinner-table that it had lacked before her advent.

For a helpless victim, however, a slave bound in fetters of steel, one would have to know c.u.mmins, the under housemaid, who lighted Mrs.

Loring's fire night and morning. She was young, shy, country bred, and new to service. When Mrs. Benson sent her to the guest's room at eight o'clock on the morning after her arrival she stopped outside the door in a panic of fear.

"Come in!" called a cheerful voice. "Come in!"

c.u.mmins entered, bearing her box with brush and cloth and kindlings.

To her further embarra.s.sment Mrs. Loring was sitting up in bed with an ermine coat on, over which her bright hair fell in picturesque disorder. She had brought the coat for theatre and opera, but as these attractions were lacking at Stoke Revel and as life there was, to her, one prolonged Polar expedition, with dashes farthest north morning and evening, she had diverted it to practical uses.

"Make me a quick fire please, a big fire, a hot fire," she begged, "or I shall be late for breakfast; I never can step into that tin tub till the ice is melted."

"There's no ice in it, ma'am," expostulated c.u.mmins gently, with the voice of a wood dove.

"You can't see it because you're English," said the strange lady, "but I can see it and feel it. Oh, you make _such_ a good fire! What is your name, please?"

"c.u.mmins, ma'am."

"There's another c.u.mmins downstairs, but she is tall and large. You shall be 'Little c.u.mmins.'"

Now every morning the shy maid palpitated outside the bedroom door, having given her modest knock; palpitated for fear it should be all a dream. But no, it was not! there would be a clear-voiced "Come in!"

and then, as she entered; "Good morning, Little c.u.mmins. I've been longing for you since daybreak!" A trifle later on it was, "Good Little c.u.mmins bearing coals of comfort! Kind Little c.u.mmins," and other strange and wonderful terms of praise, until Little c.u.mmins felt herself consumed by a pa.s.sion to which Mrs. de Tracy's coals became as less than naught unless they could be heaped on the altar of the beloved.

So life went on at Stoke Revel, outwardly even and often dull, while in reality many subtle changes were taking place below the surface; changes slight in themselves but not without meaning.

Robinette ran up to her room directly after breakfast one morning and pinned on her hat as she came downstairs. Mark Lavendar had gone to London for a few days, but even the dullness of breakfast-table conversation had not robbed her of her joy in the early sunshine, made more cheery by the prospect of a walk with Carnaby, with whom she was now fast friends.

Carnaby looked at her beamingly as they stood together on the steps.

"You're the best turned-out woman of my acquaintance," he said approvingly, with a laughable struggle for the tone of a middle-aged man of the world.

"How many ladies of fashion do you know, my child?" enquired Robinetta, pulling on her gloves.

"I see a lot of 'em off and on," Carnaby answered somewhat huffily, "and they don't call me a child either!"

"Don't they? Then that's because they're timid and don't dare address a future Admiral as Infant-in-Arms! Come on, Middy dear, let's walk."

Robinette wore a white serge dress and jacket, and her hat was a rough straw turned up saucily in two places with black owls' heads. Mrs.

Benson and Little c.u.mmins had looked at it curiously while Robinette was at breakfast.

"'Tis black underneath and white on top, Mrs. Benson. 'Ow can that be?

It looks as if one 'at 'ad been clapped on another!"

"That's what it is, c.u.mmins. It's a double hat; but they'll do anything in America. It's a double hat with two black owls' heads, and I'll wager they charged double price for it!"

"She's a lovely beauty in anythink and everythink she wears," said Little c.u.mmins loyally.

"May I call you 'Cousin Robin'?" Carnaby asked as they walked along.

"Robinette is such a long name."

"Cousin Robin is very nice, I think," she answered. "As a matter of fact I ought to be your Aunt Robin; it would be much more appropriate."

"Aunt be blowed!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Carnaby.

"You're very fond of making yourself out old, but it's no go! When I first heard you were a widow I thought you would be grandmother's age,--I say--do you think you will marry another time, Cousin Robin?"

"That's a very leading question for a gentleman to put to a lady! Were you intending to ask me to wait for you, Middy dear?" asked Robinette, putting her arm in the boy's laughingly, quite unconscious of his mood.

"I'd wait quick enough if you'd let me! I'd wait a lifetime! There never was anybody like you in the world!"

The words were said half under the boy's breath and the emotion in his tone was a complete and disagreeable surprise. Here was something that must be nipped in the bud, instantly and courageously. Robinette dropped Carnaby's arm and said: "We'll talk that over at once, Middy dear, but first you shall race me to the top of the twisting path, down past the tulip beds, to the seat under the big ash tree.--Come on!"

The two reached the tree in a moment, Carnaby sufficiently in advance to preserve his self-respect and with a colour heightened by something other than the exercise of running.

"Sit down, first cousin once removed!" said Robinette. "Do you know the story of Sydney Smith, who wrote apologizing to somebody for not being able to come to dinner? 'The house is full of cousins,' he said; 'would they were "once removed"!'"

"It's no good telling me literary anecdotes!--You're not treating me fairly," said Carnaby sulkily.